Rand Paul

I suspect there will be many more opportunities to hate Rand Paul. Here's just one:

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Paul never answers a question he is asked. NEVER. He just blathers on, man-splaining, diverting, evading, and telling unrelated stories.

Paul believes freedom of speech encompasses the freedom to discriminate. This is patently false.

Paul also believes that the right of businesses to profit is more important than human rights. Fuck you, Rand Paul.

He also throws in bullshit "examples" about how the ADA is intrusive and unreasonable, like "hundred thousand dollar elevators". Adding an elevator to a two-story building is not going to cost $100,000.

In the gross-out category, he is surely named after Ayn Rand, which just makes me want to hurl.

In conclusion, I hate libertarians.

memo

To: The Cats
From: The Can Opener

Stop putting your butt on me.

Get your snout out of my glass of water. You have your own water!

Don't try to put your feet in my food, either. You may use it like a hand, but I know perfectly well it's a *foot*. And it does not belong in my glass, or in my food.

No, you really do not have to lay on top of the keyboard while I'm at my desk. Really. Although putting your wee little paw on my hand while I have it on the mouse is kind of cute.

Jazz Fest 2010

Went to Jazz Fest this past Saturday, where I got a wicked sunburn on the spots I missed with sunblock. Back of the arms, edge of the tank-top, ouchy. Made for uncomfortable sleeping last night.

Started the day with a little bossa nova tune from Russell Batiste and friends, but didn't stay long as we needed some margaritas and my compadre needed some Crawfish Monica.

Charmaine Neville was next; she is always funky and fresh. She's got this violinist these days who throws a sometimes fiddly, sometimes classical, groove into her usual mix. I remember seeing her at Benny's Blues Bar back in the 90s, tiny little joint, the woman just owns any room she plays, whether it's a dirty little blues dive or an outdoor crowd of thousands.

Next up was Dirty Dozen Brass Band, who make me want to JUMP. High energy. Never thought I'd be into this, but there was a baritone sax solo near the end of the set that was a wackaloon psychedelic jazz freakout, and it kind of made me feel like I was high, the way poetry and music and art sometimes do.

Moved on to the Fais Do Do stage for a little Cajun music by the Chubby Carrier and the Bayou Swamp Band. Didn't stay too long, as we were kind of on the outer rim and when Rebirth started, I could hear both bands. Hearing two kinds of music at once makes me crazy.

So, next up: Rebirth Brass Band. I freakin LOVE a brass band. So good. Always tight, fierce, and powerful. I could go see them every week.

Back to the Fais Do Do stage for Beausoleil and Michael Doucet. Despite the presence of a murderous ligustrum in my orbit, it was a great set. Love me some Cajun music, everybody was dancing the Cajun two-step, and the Fais Do Do stage is the epicenter of wacky hats on men and women alike.

After Beausoleil we walked over to the Gospel Tent for the Aaron Neville Quintet. Couldn't get in - it was packed - so we sat outside and listened. His voice is sweet like syrup, I just can't get enough of it. I'm surprised he was at the Gospel Tent, though, that's usually the venue for traditional stomping-and-shouting gospel with a choir backing. I ain't complaining, though

Stopped by Economy Hall for twenty minutes or so of traditional Dixieland from Pete Fountain. He's an institution, and my traveling podner had never heard him, so it was kind of a must-see.

Onward: Pearl Jam. (one of these things is not like the other, eh? it's jazz and "heritage" and heritage covers a lot of stuff, including grunge, yo)

The old guys still have it, y'all. They fucking rocked it. I thought I had seen them at Lollapalooza years ago, but was kind of fuzzy about it, because, you know, *Lollapalooza*....but a woman I was in line with for the potty confirmed my vague and aged memory. I remembered Vedder climbing up in the scaffolding and singing from way up high. Boy, was *I* in a different place the last time I saw them live. 1992, eighteen freakin years ago. I'm sure they were in a way different place then, too. We were all in our twenties, for one thing. Anyway, absolute pros, Vedder is in fantastic shape, the band was tight and looked like they were having a good time and I am SO glad I went.

Freudian slip of the day? week? YEAR?

Just heard a guy say "masculine virulence" when he meant "masculine virility".

Ha.

moratorium

Or wait, let's call for a permanent deletion of this phrase from the English language:

"the esoteric wisdom of the East"

Christ on a crutch, people, can we let go of the Orientalist tropes of previous centuries already? I ran across this phrase in a tome on Chinese snuff bottles published in 1993, a full 15 years after the publication of Edward Said's Orientalism. Any art historian worth her salt should've known better than to engage in such stereotypical and antiquated rhetoric by the 1990s. Alas, the snuff bottle obsessives who wrote this tome - and good lord, is it a high-falutin' tome - had been publishing since the 1960s and had probably been so obsessed with the ins and outs of snuff bottles, spoons, and stoppers that they hadn't bothered to keep up with, you know, *art history" per se.

I am also in a bit of a snit about Hester Bateman, but I'll save that for another day.

the trees....

they are trying to kill me.

recommendations

Stuff I am always on about, at least lately:

1. Antihistamine eye drops. Sheer freakin genius. Over-the-counter itchy eye relief for people allergic to, say, Mississippi. Take out your contacts, put in drops, wait ten minutes, toodle off to a world without itchy eyeballs.

2. Budget billing from your utility companies. Each month you pay the average of your last twelve months' bills. Also genius, because I don't get surprised with a giant bill when it's hella cold or hot. Makes budgeting way easier, because the bill never varies by more than 5 or 10 bucks. You have to have paid your last 12 bills on time for them to switch over, at least with Mississippi Power and my gas company, which has a long name I can never remember. I have it for electricity and gas.

3. [TMI alert!] Paragard IUD for the lady readership. I know the IUD isn't for everybody, but I love it. One moderately painful insertion, one doctor bill, and you're set up for a decade, with no on-going expensive prescriptions to refill. My insurance covered most of it. No hormones involved, which is awesome because hormonal birth control is bad for me. It makes me depressed, makes me gain weight, and also wrecks my libido. Highly effective, because, you know, I don't want to have sex, but that's not quite what I'm looking for in a contraceptive. Made for heavier periods for a while, and obviously still need condoms for STI prevention, but it's highly effective and once it's there, no worries. Love. It.

4. Planned Parenthood, y'all, seriously, look into it. They've got free condoms, low-cost scrips for contraceptives, the ones with a clinic can meet all of your reproductive health needs (and most have a sliding scale), STI testing for men and women, and their website is chock-full of useful info. I just recently recommended it to a friend feeling anxious about talking about sex with her 11-year-old daughter. She found it very helpful. They've got all kinds of literature about everything to do with sexual and reproductive health. PP was my primary health care provider during the no-insurance years, really. They're an absolute lifesaver for women who can't afford for-profit medical care.

5. Volunteer! DO! EET! Want to meet like-minded people? Volunteer for an organization that matters to you. Say, Planned Parenthood for example. Or your local museum. Museums would not survive without volunteers, seriously. Most orgs are happy to have a few hours a month of your time. It's a great way to tap into the community, it's a way to give back if you don't have extra money, and to be honest, I feel like the rewards are far greater than what you're giving to the org.

Toxic Airborne Event

Here come de pollen. My white car is a dusty yellow.

I love the phrase "toxic airborne event" for some reason. It featured prominently in an early Don DeLillo novel - White Noise, I think - the one whose main character was an Elvis Studies professor. The government never would say what was in the air, just that it was a "toxic airborne event". This vaguely threatening language covers a whole realm of possibilities, from a really heinous fart to death from above.

a wee reminder

The whole point of health insurance is a *shared risk pool*, not maximum profit for shareholders.

Too many have lost sight of this very simple truth.

freeware new toy

Playing with Google Sketchup. It's pretty awesome. I can do exhibit design at my desk.

spring?

Yeah, okay, so spring officially started on Saturday, and it was 38 degrees last night. WTF?

Dinner: wheat thins, smoked gouda, diet coke, reeses' mini peanut butter cups. I am SO. FREAKIN. HEALTH CONSCIOUS. Envy me.

spring, well...

I spoke too soon. The down comforter is back on the bed and it's chilly in the mornings. Daffodils are still in action, and I've got some swanky new herbs on the deck: sage, oregano, and parsley. The rosemary is looking a little sorry after a long winter, might go ahead and put her in the ground instead of a pot. I think she'll be happier there.

No, this is not a gardening blog, but it's spring and I want to get my hands dirty and grow stuff. I'll get over it as soon as I have to start having to take daily benadryl in order to breathe through my nose.

Headed to Mandeville, LA tomorrow for a craft beer festival with Dad and Baby Bro. Perhaps I should locate my camera between now and then?

Spring!

How do I know?

1. Buds on the daffodils in the front yard; actual flowers on the other daffodil plants.

2. Unearthed my sandals from the depths of the closet, as it is now too warm to wear slippers in the house.

3. Removed the fleece sheets & down comforter from the bed, replaced with regular sheets/light comforter.

4. Wearing only one layer of clothing (not counting underwears).

5. Did not shiver & shake between shower & closet. Outstanding.

Spring!

bleah

Spent February fighting a cold, having a cold, and recovering from said cold. It's been just delightful. Decongestants are the cure that is often worse than the disease; neti pots disgusting but so effective, though only for a short while; Nyquil makes me dizzy.

I finally feel nearly human, thank goodness, because the shit will hit the fan at work if I don't get productive, and soon.

Stupid weather keeps fucking with my bulbs. Paperwhites never bloomed; daffodils started about ten days ago and then it froze again, so they're probably not going to finish blooming. I am a lazy gardener, and a cheap one, so I don't like planting annuals. I like bulbs because, you know, you plant them once and they just keep coming back. Unless the stupid weather confuses them into starting early and then, cruelly, freezes their wee green little buds. Mean weather.

snow day

The sound of sleet on dry grass sounds like a sizzling skillet.

OMG Y'ALL

So, I watched a little American Idol last night, which doesn't happen all that often. Normally I watch some of the early episodes, but then when they start making the kids do group medley numbers like some sort of high school misfits club - only not as awesome as Glee - that is when I quit.

ANYhoo, they showed a montage of people who showed up with Adam Lambert's hair, and one of them was Daniel Franco, the designer who was on TWO seasons of Project Runway. Daniel, in case you are not a PR nut like me, is a strange mixture of sweet, intense, a little crazy, talented, a little celebrity-hungry, and just, just THISCLOSE to occasionally being a little bit creepy. But I think that's because he's so intense. And he's always telling Heidi Klum that he loves her. I'm pretty sure he's in his 30s and thus too old for American Idol, but he got in the door somehow. I have a vague recollection of him singing show tunes in the sewing room with some of the other designers, but I could be confusing him with the other 400 show-tune singing designers that have been on PR.

I think he's kind of adorable and kind of completely from outer space. In fact, when I win the lottery, I think I might hire him to be my personal couturier. I think he actually *likes* women, as opposed to thinking women make conveniently mobile dress hangers for their ARTISTIC CREATIONS.

I would like to note, by the way, that Adam Lambert did not invent backwards hair. Emo boys have been wearing their hair like that for years. Shit, redneck nurses and Kate Gosselin have been sporting the rooster in the back/backwards in the front look for at least five years. Are the American Idol producers so out of touch with the rest of America that they think anyone with backwards hair is copying Adam Lambert? I think it's their job to be on top of what's popular, yeah?

True Fact

I was in my 20s before I discovered that "When the Saints Go Marching In" was actually a gospel tune. I was sure it was written for the football team. I never heard it in any other context until I left New Orleans.

Kermit Ruffins got his christmas wish!

Blog for Choice day

Abortion should be available ON DEMAND AND WITHOUT APOLOGY.

That is all.

twenty years on...

So, I ran across a copy of "The Band Played On", Randy Shilts' book about the early years of the AIDS epidemic, and figured I'd go ahead and read it. It is thorough, grim, infuriating, sad, compelling, and enlightening. And, twenty years on, with AIDS still ravaging Africans and the drug cocktail that keeps it in check only available to the affluent, I can only believe it's this way because the people at the top *do not care* and have *never cared* about a disease has mostly afflicted poor people, gay people, black people, addicts, and sex workers.

And, furthermore, Ronald fucking Reagan? Was NOT a great president. He presided over what I can only call negligent genocide. His people kept calling AIDS his "number-one health priority" while refusing to fund it, acknowledge it, or throw any resources at it at all. The Congress had to force a tad of AIDS funding into the budget every year, but never enough. Never enough. That motherfucker, if I believe in hell, would be rotting there for sure.

There's also nothing like a week of reading about AIDS to turn one into a giant hypochondriac. I think of those years in the 80s, before they told us straight people could get AIDS, when I did not practice safe sex. I was on the Pill, what else did I need, right? I can't exactly pinpoint the moment when straight people realized we were at risk. For me, living in Texas, it was sometime between 1987 and 2001; I got married in 1987, and by the time I got divorced four years later, the sexual landscape had changed and condoms were mandatory. Before 1987, I don't think I'd ever used one. Birth control was the issue, not STIs. So, point being, every sniffle or new freckle I've noticed this week? Freaked. Me. Out. Which is absurd, considering I have been tested several times and been practicing safer sex for several decades. I cannot imagine the level of absolute terror gay men were living with in the 80s.

[I called this post twenty years on because the book was published in 1988 or so, which was 20 or so years ago, but in reality, the AIDS epidemic is much older. It's probably closer to 35 years old. The first MMWR report on what would turn out to be AIDS was published in the summer of 1981, almost 30 years ago]